Lazy Mornings
by LadyLoki221
Summary: John and Sherlock enjoy a lazy morning in bed. Pure fluff.


Mornings like this were one of Sherlock's favorite parts of their relationship. John was content enough to lie in bed with him, neither of them saying much, and leaving Sherlock to his thoughts, sometimes for hours. Sometimes they would talk, but most times, neither said a word. And for Sherlock, that was more than enough. John's warm arms encircling him kept him grounded and allowed him to lose himself in his thoughts at the same time.

John also enjoyed these mornings, whether they be silent or full of whispers in the early morning. Sherlock let down his guard in these moments. Sometimes, his guard was nowhere to be seen, and he professed some of his deepest thoughts to John. Other times, he was only vulnerable enough to allow John to hold him tight, snuggled up together in the warm sheets as the genius accessed some of the more hidden crevices of his mind palace. Knowing that he was the only person with which Sherlock felt comfortable being vulnerable with made John's heart swell like it never had before.

This morning, however special it was, was no different than most. On this particular morning, the rain pattering gently against the window was enough to keep Sherlock locked firmly out of his mind palace, thus resulting in a tightly sheet-wrapped burrito of a man grumbling to himself on one side of the bed. John had not yet awoken, and as there seemed to be nothing interesting holding Sherlock in bed, he was about to get up to go experiment with something in another room. Just as he began to untangle himself from the sheets, however, a strong arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him tight against a warm body before dragging the sheets away from him.

"Don't think you're getting away with stealing the sheets, 'Lock," the raspy, sleepy John Watson muttered from behind him. Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes, lacing his fingers with John's as he turned over to face him. John smiled and moved a little closer, pressing a soft kiss to Sherlock's nose. "Morning," he whispered.

Sherlock closed his eyes as John's lips brushed against the tip of his nose, then sighed. "Good morning, John." And for a while, not another word was spoken. The only sound was the gentle patter of rain, while the two men stared serenely into the other's eyes. Sherlock unconsciously rubbed his thumb back and forth over the back of John's hand, the motion causing a warm smile to appear on John's lips. With a soft sigh of contentment, John moved his head closer to Sherlock's, pressing their foreheads together so that Sherlock's messy curls fell over his temples and tangled perfectly with his own hair. Sherlock smiled at him as he closed his eyes, allowing his doctor to dose off for just a few minutes before the uncontrollable urge to kiss him forced him to wake John up again. John woke to Sherlock's lips gently moving against his own, a soft moan escaping his mouth with the softest of sounds. Sherlock had one hand pressed gently against John's bare chest, and the other held firmly to his hip. John reached one hand up to cup the side of Sherlock's face, and the hand on his hip moved up to grasp his bicep.

That simple touch had an astounding effect on their kiss. Sherlock suddenly gasped against John's lips, squeezing his arm at the same time as a way of letting him know how willing he was to let this go further. John grinned and rolled over so that he was hovering over Sherlock, swinging his leg over the man's hips to straddle him. The sheet still clung to his bare hips, and Sherlock grinned like a child as he reached for it, pulling it over their heads as he continued kissing John earnestly. John was still smiling against Sherlock's lips as he kissed him, quickly making sure to stop the giggles that had erupted from the detective by sliding his tongue over his bottom lip. Sherlock opened his mouth to John, allowing his mouth to be completely debauched by John's warm tongue.

With the sheet blocking them off from the outside world, neither of them seemed to notice the soft knock at their door. Only after the third, more insistent, series of knocks, did John pull his lips away from Sherlock's with a wet, and wholly indecent, smacking sound. "Who is it?" he called out, slightly agitated with the visitor for interrupting such a perfect morning.

"Housekeeping," a young man called back to him. John sighed and leaned back down to Sherlock.

"Busy right now," he called out, kissing the man beneath him again, "Come back later?" Before the boy could answer, Sherlock had wound his lanky arms around John's neck and they were locked together once more. The boy responded, but neither of them heard a thing, as they continued to roll about the sheets of their hotel bed. When the finally broke apart once more, they merely stared at one another, John hovering over Sherlock once more, and tracing a finger over those perfect cupid's bow lips. Sherlock glanced down at the hand that touched him, his eyes lingering on the silver band around John's ring finger. Silently, Sherlock reached up and brought that hand to his lips, pressing a chaste, but firm kiss to the ring.

John smiled and leaned down to kiss Sherlock's forehead. "Do you know how long I've waited for this?" He whispered, lovingly caressing Sherlock's nose with his own.

Sherlock squinted and scrunched up his nose in thought. "Approximately three months, two weeks, and six days, since I proposed to you?"

John snorted a laugh and reached up to hold Sherlock's face between his hands. "I didn't mean that literally, you idiot. I mean, I've wanted this for as long as I can remember."

Sherlock seemed to consider this for a moment, before a hint of a smile pulled at his lips. "As long as you remember?" he questioned, "My doctor, if I remember correctly, it took me six years just to make you come to terms with your sexuality."

"I'm still not gay," John laughed, kissing Sherlock lips softly. "I only gay for you, 'Lock. I don't want anybody else."

Sherlock smiled and kissed John slowly and languidly. When they broke apart, Sherlock grinned. He wasn't quite sure how to put it into words, but John was the first and only person he had ever loved. John was the only one to ever understand Sherlock, and the only one to ever discover that Sherlock Holmes did, in fact, have a heart. Now, that heart was his, and he could do with it as he pleased, because Sherlock never wanted him to give it back. John was his husband now, and no one would ever take his John away from him, not again. "John," he whispered, hesitating as he fought to get the words out.

John smiled and tucked his head into the crook of Sherlock's neck, kissing the smooth skin. "I know, Sherlock. I love you, too."

Sherlock grinned, wrapping his arms tighter around John.

They both loved mornings like this; When the rain tapped against the glass of the window and they laid in the warmth of each other's arms, ignoring the world around them and whispering to each other as their lips sought kisses from the other in the pale, morning light.


End file.
